


Time and Patience

by Flipdarkchill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1943, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Eventual Romance, M/M, Maybe more - Freeform, Mystery, One Shot, Room of Requirement, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 21:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flipdarkchill/pseuds/Flipdarkchill
Summary: Harry Potter has grown old. While lying on his deathbed, his new caretaker just so happens to be a young Tom Riddle.Let the questions begin.





	Time and Patience

            "Master Potter?" a little house-elf entered the room cautiously, not wanting to frighten her already frail master by popping in and out unexpectedly. Harry looked up from his bed to see many colorful socks and a soft, old pillowcase wrapped around the elf’s torso. It was a custom in the Potter house for the elves to wear colorful clothes, and Harry, for just a moment, forgot where he was. 

            "Dobby...?" he whispered, and reached out a withered hand, but the elf shook her head sadly,

            "Master Potter, I is no Dobby sir. Remember? My name is Winky III. Do you need anything, Master Potter?"

            A sad, distant look filled Harry's eyes. He lowered his hand. Dobby– that was so long ago…but then, he was nearing one hundred and fifty years. Harry had lived up to his name, in the end, and survived longer than even his eldest son, James. His wife was gone, along with Lily, but his grandchildren were alive and well, which was the only thing that seemed to make Harry happy these days.

            "No, Winky, I'm fine. Tell Al to come here for a moment. I have something to say.”

            "That's fine, Master Potter, I is telling him right away. And Master Potter, your new caretaker has arrived early. He is to be meeting with you shortly."

            Harry just waved his hand and the little elf crept out of sight. In his many years, Harry had accumulated a small fortune to call his own. It was enough to keep his family happy and safe, and he could afford to live comfortably in the last few years of his life.

            Knock. Knock.

            Harry closed his eyes. And besides...whoever his new caretaker was...it would probably be his last.

            "Albus?" he said, but when no response came he peeked out and saw...well, what he saw was certainly not what he was expecting. A man who looked in his late twenties approached the bed slowly. He had red, crimson eyes. His hair was black and wavy, with the delicate features of a handsome face. Harry's eyes went wide with familiarity. But... it couldn't be....

            "Yes, Harry" the young man whispered while taking a seat next to him.

            "Tom...V-Voldemort," Harry reached for his wand out of pure instinct, but he had grown so old he had no need for it anymore. It was tucked away in a drawer beside the desk. Voldemort, reading Harry's expression, smiled a little.

            "There's no need, Harry. I'm not going to hurt you."

            "But how? I defeated you–"

            “Yes Harry, you did. I’ll admit, it was… difficult to arrange this meeting. The amount of security surrounding your estate is remarkable, considering your age.”

            “You’re an illusion, then. A figment of my fragile mind,” Harry concluded, closing his eyes and sinking further into the pillow. It wasn’t possible for Voldemort to be alive. After all, it had been ages since his scar even hurt.

            “An illusion? Merely because you find it impossible does not make me an illusion, Harry. I did not die that fateful day. On the contrary, I was sent into the past.”

            “Then you’re an impostor. A potion, or something. Al–Al!”

            “Now you are grasping at straws, Harry. The room has been silenced and warded since the moment I stepped through. Your son will not hear you.”

            Harry tried to get up, but a firm hand on his shoulder held him down. Harry was far too weak and old to resist.

            “What do you want?” he said, surprised by the amount of strength he still held in his voice, and red eyes crinkled in amusement.

            “Harry, what I want is one thing only. The very thing you have always refused to acknowledge: that we are, and have always been, connected. I have a proposal for you, Harry. If you refuse, then I shall leave you and never come back. You will live out the rest of your days in peace and die surrounded by your loved ones and friends.”

            “And if I accept?” Harry didn’t fail to notice how he had left that part out.

            Voldemort smiled calmly.

            “Yes, Harry. If you accept, then I cannot promise you any of those things. Not peace. Not friendship. Not even death. But come with me, Harry, and I can show you great things.”

            _Great… yes… but terrible…_ He shivered violently, and Voldemort took his hand.

            “I cannot do anything for you in this life. But come with me…and I promise you something far greater than death.”

            And Harry, for the first time since Tom arrived, smiled.

“You really don’t get it, do you, Tom? I see. It’s true now. You really are alive. And you’re still the same. You still fear death.”

            Harry was half expecting Voldemort to lash out. Get angry. Do something. But Voldemort just stared, so Harry continued,   

            “Do what you want. I’m no use to you now, old and frail. I will die here. I couldn’t go with you even if I wanted to.”

            “But _do_ you want to?” Voldemort persisted, eyes gleaming, “I can make it possible, Harry. I am waiting for an answer. Yes or no. Will you come with me?”

            And it was here that Harry paused. He thought deeply about the present and his upcoming death. Everyone he’d ever loved was already gone. Ginny. Ron. Hermione. Luna and Neville. James.  Lily. Sure, Al was still here, but he was growing old too. Soon, very soon, Harry would die too. But he’d had a fulfilling life. He’d finally be with the ones he loved most.

            But there was another side of Harry that he didn’t want to admit. A side he had refused to look at for most of his life. And when Harry spoke next, it was with a pain he didn’t know he had been holding.

            “I can’t, Tom… you know I can’t I–“

            “Hush Harry. You can…” Tom soothed, “Just give me the word and I can make all of it possible. You will be young again. Free.”

            “But– “

            “But what? There is nothing here, Harry. You are old. You are dying. I can give you life again… I can give you a purpose. Just say the word.”

            Harry felt tears leaking down his face, and Tom kissed his hand. And just like that, Harry closed his eyes and resigned himself to whatever fate he had just signed.  

            “Okay. I’ll come. But how do I– “

            Tom hushed him once more, and then took both of Harry’s hands in his.

            In a flash of light, they were gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This just a single chapter that I wanted to post. I have a bit more planned, but not too much, so it may go somewhere, or not, but I'm not entirely sure...


End file.
